


Shameless

by Xenobotanist



Series: Joys, Ploys, & Bedroom Toys [1]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Anal Sex, Crack, M/M, Sex Toys, Shameless Smut, Smut, Spying, quickfic, sex in the workplace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:00:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27204889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xenobotanist/pseuds/Xenobotanist
Summary: Garak was shameless. There was really no other way to say it.Well, yes there was. Garak would probably prefer a term with less negative connotations. Maybe “brazen” or “wanton.” Julian was leaning towards “immodest,” or “dauntless,” and occasionally “outrageous.”But either way, the Cardassian really didn’t have any shame to speak of.
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Series: Joys, Ploys, & Bedroom Toys [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2048306
Comments: 15
Kudos: 45





	Shameless

**Author's Note:**

> It's 1:20 a.m.  
> I have to be up at 5:20 a.m.  
> But this came to me in the shower, and I couldn't stop until it was done.  
> Enjoy!

Garak was shameless. There was really no other way to say it.

Well, yes there was. Garak would probably prefer a term with less negative connotations. Maybe “brazen” or “wanton.” Julian was leaning towards “immodest,” or “dauntless,” and occasionally “outrageous.”

But either way, the Cardassian really didn’t have any shame to speak of.

He’d been even more so before the wire was deactivated. Not just grabbing Julian by the shoulders in front of others but rubbing his leg and even his crotch under the replimat table. Giving him quick blowies in the changing rooms of the tailor shop. Bending him over the couch in any of the observatories with the door closed but not locked. Anything for instant gratification and a release from his dreary existence. 

And let’s not forget the time he made obscene gestures with his fingers and mouth behind Dukat’s back. Dax had actually strained a muscle in her pouch from doubling over in laughter.

And then Julian had to be the one to fix her up.

After the near-death experience and harrowing procedure with the implant, Garak had grown more careful but no less insatiable. Gropings and buggering continued on at least a bi-weekly basis and were reserved for closed quarters (usually), but still ranged from mildly experimental to wildly acrobatic.

Which brought them to this instance now, with Julian splain against his console, arse cheeks entering false data into the sample statistics as they rocked, because it was the 24th century and computers still weren’t intelligent enough to decipher a butt-dial.

Streaks of fire blazed through Julian’s cock as Garak stroked it against his own prUt, the Cardassian lubrication more than sufficient for the two of them. “Hold on now, there’s a dear,” the tailor suggested as Julian grabbed at the edge of the desk. He kicked up his thrusting a notch, and the explicitly-illegal model of a Klingon’s double-pronged anatomy fucked into both of them with a vengeance. 

No doubt if Worf saw them, he’d bat’leth the infirmary to pieces at the dishonor to his race. But that was neither here nor there.

Julian freed one hand to grab at Garak’s pristine tunic and drag him forward into a heated if sloppy kiss. He hoped the fabric wrinkled. Their pace stuttered at the change in angle, but he literally rolled with it, shimmying his hips in a side to side motion that he knew drove his partner mad. 

The Cardassian let out a short hiss and moved his lips from Julian’s mouth to his neck, where he set about using the muscles as a chew toy. 

They writhed against each other with abandon, Garak pinching and nibbling away at the delicate human skin and Julian wrapping his legs around the scale-ridged hips for deeper penetration. 

The machines behind them emitted a strange set of beeps followed by the brief warble of an alarm, and the “retired” spy quickly disabled it with the hand that wasn’t pumping between them.

The jolt of adrenaline from the alarm was enough to set Julian off, and he cried out as his spunk squirted all over Garak’s forest green tunic. His companion grimaced at the sight but didn’t let up, and soon both his prUt and ajan were dripping all down the doctor’s uniformed legs. It looked like they were even.

Julian tried to lift up from the hard console beneath him, but found himself pinned down by a very focused Garak, who appeared to be rapidly reading something from one of the screens. “I _knew_ it!” the Cardassian mumbled to himself.

Julian twisted around to see what he was talking about. What looked to be a personnel file was scrolling by. “ _Garak!_ Were you hacking into Ensign Vlottor’s records while fucking me?”

Garak raised his brow ridges innocently. “Of course not. Someone must have left them open after his last physical. But as you can see, his so-called Romulan-Bolian heritage is highly suspect. If I had to venture a guess, I’d say there was Lissepian in his bloodline. It bears some investigation, don’t you think?”

The doctor shook his head.

Shameless.

**Author's Note:**

> If you belong to STSP, I hope you enjoyed my reference to Klingon physiology and the butt-dial.  
> Personally, I'm proud of using bat'leth as a verb and believe that Garak actually DID make obscene gestures behind Dukat's back. I don't see how that WOULDN'T happen.


End file.
